


In Cups Of Coffee

by DesdemonaSighs



Series: But I do know one thing (is where you are is where I belong) [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: I dont know what im doing anymore, M/M, Rent references FTW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaSighs/pseuds/DesdemonaSighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"How do you measure a year in the life?"</i>
</p><p> </p><p>John always preferred tea over coffee, but he doesn't mind watching Sherlock bounce around after a cup or two.</p><p>The story of John and Sherlock told through cups of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Cups Of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadelyn: you still owe me a rent marathon](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jadelyn%3A+you+still+owe+me+a+rent+marathon).



**_cup one_**

The first cup of coffee John ever has is in the presence of the world's only consulting detective. Blue eyes stared eagerly into his as he brought the mug of dark liquid to his lips, his nose twitching at the strong scent. Sherlock had thrown a fit after finding out that John had never had coffee ("Doesn't it stunt your growth? Sherlock, I'm already short enough." "Oh, hell, you're not going to grow anymore anyways, just have a cuppa. Look, I'll even pour it for you.") and nearly forced the scolding drink down his throat. 

"Well, are you just going to stare at the bloody cup all day, or are you going to drink it?" Sherlock grumbled impatiently, looking down at his phone. Text messages from Lestrade continued to roll in, all on the case that the two men were already late to. Sherlock, for once in his life, disregarded them, instead looking intently at John. 

The doctor hesitated, before flicking out his tongue and taking the tiniest of sips of the coffee. He made a low noise, his face scrunching up in distaste. 

"It certainly is strong, isn't it?" John mumbled, setting the cup down. Sherlock looked utterly shocked, and John couldn't suppress the smug grin that came onto his face. 

"You don't like it?" 

"It's disgusting Sherlock. Let's just go." 

_**cup twenty four**_

The twenty fourth cup of coffee John ever has isn't nearly as bad as the first. Diluted with sugar and cream, it tastes faintly sweet and is more of John's style. He mixed his slowly, looking at Sherlock from across the table and smiling lightly. 

"What, long night?" he asked as Sherlock gulped down his third cup that morning. John watched with faint interest at the way Sherlock licked his lips, his tongue gliding almost seductively over his full bottom lip. John forced himself to look back into his mug of milky coffee, clearing his throat and crossing his legs. 

"I haven't slept in four days, Dr Watson. I find it unnecessary when we have a case to be solved," he snapped back, and John stifled a laugh. So even the great Sherlock Holmes got grumpy when he was sleepy. 

"You want another cup, then? I don't think the ten you've already have will be enough," John tipped back his own drink, downing the last of the coffee. Sherlock's leg began to bounce with energy under the table, and John chuckled. 

"Yes, I want another bloody cup! Get me one!" he pounded his fist on the table and John jumped out of his chair, walking to the counter and pouring some into Sherlock's cup. 

"You know, children really shouldn't drink coffee, Sherlock." 

"What the hell are you trying to say, John?" 

_**cup one hundred and forty two**_

The one hundred and forty second cup of coffee John ever has is spilled all over the front of his favorite beige jumper. It leaves a stinging trail and a large stain, but he doesn't care because within seconds, the jumper is pulled off of him and thrown to the side. 

"Hell, Sherlock. You could have at least waited for me to finish my drink!" he groaned out as kisses were laid onto the side of his neck, Sherlock's expert tongue darting out to trace at his pulse point. 

"No time. Case. Must get off," Sherlock mumbled into his neck, biting down on the sensitive skin and making John's back arch off the couch. He wanted to protest, to tell Sherlock to fuck off because he was tired of being his go to when he got horny, but his thoughts were cut short when Sherlock's hands began to unbuckle his belt. 

"Jesus, Sherlock, the world isn't going to end if we slow down!" John managed to choke out as hands clasped him everywhere, touching him without caution. 

"Shut up, you're expelling idiot all over the room and it's turning me off," the younger man said between kisses down John's chest. 

"Fuck you, Sherlock." 

"Yes John, that's exactly what you're about to do." 

_**cup two hundred and ninety three**_

The two hundred and ninety third cup of coffee John ever has is with a girl named Mary who needs a flat mate. The coffee tastes oddly sour in his mouth, even though he added his usual sugar and creamer. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that coffee was a Sherlock thing and, well, Sherlock was no longer in his life. 

"So, you're friends with that famous detective, aren't you?" Mary asked, wrapping a strand of blonde hair around her finger. Of course, he couldn't go anywhere without someone asking him about Sherlock. 

"Um, yeah, yeah, sort of," he stuttered out. Friends. Lovers. Partners. He didn't know where one ended and one began when it came to Sherlock. What were they now? Ex friends? Ex lovers? Ex flat mates, maybe. 

"Wot, did you two break up or something?" the blonde quirked an eyebrow, and John felt himself gulp. He brought the cup of coffee to his lips and took a long sip. 

"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, trying to smile. Mary didn't know any better. No one knew that him and Sherlock had been together. That they had touched, kissed, made love. No one knew. No one would ever know. 

"I'm really sorry. I'm sure everything will work itself out. If you want to join me at my flat, you're welcome to." 

"Thank you, Mary. I'd like that." 

_**cup three hundred and thirty**_

The three hundred and thirtieth cup of coffee John ever has is forgotten on the counter when Sherlock grabs him and kisses him. It seems like eternity before they pull away from each other, flush and needy and grinning. 

"So, what? What does this mean?" John panted, gripping tightly at the front of Sherlock's button up. 

"It means I can't live without you. I'm a mess without you. I need my blogger," Sherlock's lips met his again, and John couldn't help but smile into the kiss, reaching up and cupping the back of the detective's neck. 

"When's the last time you slept?" John laughed, his hands caressing Sherlock's skull as the continued to embrace, not wanting to let each other go. 

"It's been about a week," Sherlock admitted, kissing the top of the doctor's head and smiling. John chuckled, pressing his nose into the crook of Sherlock's neck. 

"What kept you awake?" he asked, inhaling the scent of smoke and laundry detergent that was undeniably Sherlock's. 

"Coffee, of course." 

"God - you know what, never mind. I love you, Sherlock Holmes." 

"And I love you, Doctor Watson."

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee Bean inspiration, may I say.


End file.
